"Do Not Let The Behaviour Of Others Destroy Your Inner Peace" (Dalai Lama)

I am back staying with my parents at their small sheep croft on the west coast. I got up this morning and went downstairs for a cup of tea and toast. Had a wee chat with my mum as I fed the dogs their morning biscuits. All lovely. When my dad came in, I made my usual little joke about something-inviting the banter that we tend to enjoy in our relationship. However, he responded without humour. I was catapulted back to my childhood where his recovery from brain surgery meant that his mood was changeable and it was impossible to know which mood he was going to be in.

I observed my heart starting to beat faster, anxiety forming and noticed my urge to go into a full comedy routine to make him laugh. Aaah so that is what happens. I have always loved humour. Loved jokes, comedy shows, the light and magical energy that a funny person brings to a room. My auntie once said that I light up a room and I hold that lovely compliment dear in my heart.

My dad has always been funny-at my second wedding his speech consisted of jokes-literally all jokes and none of them related to me or my new husband. It was like he was trying out a new joke routine rather than giving a father of the bride speech. I loved that. I think humour is the most authentic and gorgeous way of connecting with people. And to make people laugh is even better.

Except until this morning, I had n't realised that I had also developed humour as a kid as a way to connect with a parent whose moods dominated the house. This single act of mindfulness, of stopping and observing my feelings rather than simply falling into an old childhood behaviour pattern was rewarded by this powerful insight.

Holy shit, I have remained in this state of hyper vigilance, not only around my dad but in my adult interactions with others. In a clear case of childhood parental/authoritarian power blurring, I realise my tendency to do this in interactions with bosses. If I sense their mood is slightly off then I launch into a mini standup routine determined to change the vibe and lets face it, make them hate me less.

A friend (a fellow people-pleaser) and I joke that our default position is that everyone hates us-classic I am not OK, you are OK. Typical narrative with this friend-"Did he email you back?", "No, he hates me". Then we typically roar with laughter. This friendship has deepened during Lockdown. Our similar responses and our ability to laugh at them has been like therapy to me.

I have felt this people pleasing behaviour soak up my authenticity and true self power wattage over the years. It is a physical sensation of unease and an unconscious recognition that I am overcompensating. And I wonder how it must feel for those on the receiving end of this intense, typically self-depreciating onslaught of 'funny'.

I retreat from the kitchen rather than continue to feel responsible for what I perceive to be my dad's 'mood'. I go upstairs and reflect on what just happened. And I feel a lightness wash over me with this insight that it was never my fault!

When I go down later, my dad’s mood has brightened. He asks me how I slept. A good night’s sleep is regarded as the optimimum of personal success in my family. Long conversations take place over this and all family members receive immense praise if they manage to sleep all night without waking up.

My dad tells me he has n‘t been sleeping well recently. I realise that, like all of us, his mood is impacted by how much sleep he has had. And I am able to recognise how difficult it must have been for him to recover from brain surgery when I was a kid.

With that insight, I am filled with compassion for my dad and am released further from the heavy confines of my childhood thinking that I am responsible for everything. And I am filled with self compassion for the sensitive wee girl who always thought that she was.